


The Life Will Lie to You, But the Death Will Stay True

by gardakuka



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 21st Century, Alternate Universe - Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bollocks To Brexit, COYI, Crack, Except Brexit, F/M, For Example Cleganes and Targaryens, Gen, God Save the Crack, I Looove Them Tags, M/M, My Imagination Can Be Used Instead Of A Nuclear Weapon, Of Course God Needs to Save Her She is in This Fanfic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Out of Character, References to Modern Culture, Slow Build, So Everything Is Pretty Much As You Can See Behind Your Window, So Slow It Lost To Slowpoke During F1 Race, Some IRL Figures Mentioned, Such as Queen Elizabeth, They Also have Different Names, They Live in Britain but Not Everyone is British, United Kingdom, You will see why, additional relationships to be added - Freeform, god save the queen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-13 16:29:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21000713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardakuka/pseuds/gardakuka
Summary: The owls are not what they seem.So is your life.orAs Steve awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a Lord of Winterfell.





	1. Steve

**Author's Note:**

> Warning number one: I am still not a native English speaker. And there is no beta again. Please tell me if something is wrong there...  
Warning number two: I still have a VERY vivid imagination.  
Warning number three: this work will have references to certain historical events which you might find upsetting/cruel/too much for a crack fanfic.  
Warning number four: I might change the title later (btw it was inspired by a non-English song).  
Warning number five: British words.  
Warning number six: there will be some changes in the ages of some characters. I don't like to do it to be honest, but for example, I needed Sandor to be born in the specific year so there will be smaller age gap between him and Sansa.  
Warning number seven: heavy Out Of Character vibes. But you will see why it happened.  
Warning number eight: I have a rubbish sense of humour. And the PhD in Memology.  
Warning number nine: more warnings to follow.  
Warning number ten: I am not even sorry for this fanfic ¯ \ _ (ツ) _ / ¯  
My next pre-chapter note will be longer than the chapter itself, I swear.

It was raining again.

After an unsuccessful attempt to drag a hood lower than it was possible, Steve accepted his fate and prepared to look like a drowned rat before he will reach the nearest jobcentre. His new umbrella, a belated birthday present from Charlotte, was laying somewhere in the corner of his bedroom, broken and miserable as his owner.

It happened two days ago, the wind was too strong and as soon as Steve heard a cracking sound he realised that he was in deep shit. Well, it was obvious: when someone didn’t have enough money even to get a new umbrella it was an unmistakable sign that this particular person was in a deep shit. As soon as he arrived home, Steve called his local jobcentre, scheduled appointment for the first available slot, and drunk not three but just two cans of beer in addition to his scanty dinner. Being a jobless person with a broken umbrella quite sucked.

He spent yesterday at home as it was pouring like crazy. Steve didn’t have any wish to go outside and was doing nothing all day long. Charlotte, his youngest daughter, had visited him for the lunch which she brought from her not-really-a-boyfriend, and Steve even dropped a short remark that at least one of his children grew up to be a decent person. This phrase led to a quarrel, and Charlotte left his house as soon as they finished their lunch. She even grabbed a spare pack of beer on her way to the door, leaving Steve sober and dissatisfied for the whole afternoon.

And now it was raining again.

Steve found some spare notes in the top drawer of his table, it was enough for a return bus trip and a proper dinner, probably a take-away from a small pizza place near his flat. Yeah, a hot and crusty pizza was exactly what Steve needed at this particular point of his life. With some ham and mushrooms, definitely.

The traffic was favourable to Steve, and he arrived at the centre half an hour before his appointment, which he decided to take as a good sign, maybe even as a potential job offer. To be honest (and Steve was not a person who was always honest even to his children), he was willing to take any job offer, even if it meant babysitting or cleaning tables in a crummy pub on the outskirts of the city, that’s how desperate he was for any type of income.

And maybe then his wife would change her mind and come back to London with their youngest boys, and maybe then Alice would finally pay attention to her not-so-good father. Just maybe.

But he had to work hard for it. And that was his biggest problem.

That, and the off-licence store one street down from his flat.

He was called in earlier than his appointment was scheduled for. His advisor, a miniature lady with long blond, almost white braid, invited him into her office for a usual talk. Steve had already had plenty of them in the past, and none of it ended up with him having a stable and profitable job in a place he wouldn’t despise after the first trial week. He sighed and reminded himself to stay calm and try not to make her cry with his sheepish phrases as it happened with the supervisor at his last job around a year ago. That time he was assigned for a trial period at some posh restaurant near Knightsbridge, and his supervisor, a young but already quite fat man (Steve assumed him being around his eldest son’s age) began to weep after the end of Steve's first (and last) working week there. Steve had never thought himself to be guilty of this incident, in his opinion, it was that stupid chef’s problem, he was too soft and sissy for his position. Yeah, his meals were wonderful, Steve had tried them during staff breaks, but in terms of supervision that Liam guy was completely helpless.

For sure, everyone who wouldn’t be able to stand a small joke from a cleaner was completely helpless.

But this lady at the jobcentre was different, even despite her fragile appearance. During the introduction process, she was staring at Steve with some sort of annoyance (was she wearing some sort of fake contacts to make her eyes look as if she was a character from some anime series his youngest children were so fond of?), and beneath her uniform, he had spotted some tattoos. In Steve’s opinion that was unacceptable for someone working in the jobcentre (especially when he was always criticised for having a tattoo on the backside of his neck, next to an ugly birthmark), but for now, he had to swallow his pride and answer lady’s questions.

Yes, he wanted to get a new job as soon as possible.

No, it won’t be like last time. 

Yes, he had thought about his behaviour and will never act as an abuser again.

Yes, he was willing to do anything, even to pick strawberries in the company of some foreigners with their funny accents and quite nice jokes.

Yes, he was sure that this time he will be happy with any option.

Yes, he was sure even about the bloody strawberries.

Yes, he was happy to wake up every morning around 4 am and travel to the outskirts of London.

Yes, he just needed any bloody job as soon as possible.

“And what about your wife?” that stupid lady asked him. “Has she ever considered to come back to London and live with you?”

“I am not sure why you have this question on your list,” mumbled Steve who was not in a mood to discuss his matters with a total stranger.

Lady (“Petra” was her name, at least according to the small name tag she was wearing on her blouse) looked at him with some sort of worry and furrowed her tiny brows.

“Sorry to bring up this matter, but Andy mentioned to me your family problems. He was really worried about you, you know.”

“He left this job?”

“Retired,” Petra nodded while looking through her notes. “And he was keen to find out if you finally sorted all that mess with your family.”

“I didn’t,” Steve shrugged. “And you don’t look like my counsellor to talk like this about my matters.”

“But do you have _ your _ counsellor?” Petra’s eyes were stone cold.

“That’s my private matter, isn’t it?” snorted Steve. This lady was too curious for a regular jobcentre advisor, it was much easier to picture her working as a journalist for Daily Mail - or any other paper Steve despised.

Petra nodded.

“You are a stubborn person, Mr Tark. But I will see what we can do for you. With your...” she rolled her eyes. “Your _ extremely difficult _ case.”

“Hope so,” Steve stand up from his chair, not even bothering to put it in place. “After all, it is your job - and you have one, unlike me.”

Petra narrowed her brows and made a small note in Steve’s file. He decided not to wait for her reply and just left without any polite farewell. Honestly, he didn’t care about what this odd lady will think about his behaviour.

To be honest, after this short discussion he was more than a hundred per cent sure that this time he will stay unemployed for months. A good sign from this morning didn’t work at all.

_Great._

Well, at least it wasn’t raining anymore.

Steve took off his jacket, making a mental note to take it to the dry cleaners on Saturday, and decided to have a nice and peaceful walk back home. He still had spare money for a bus trip but the sun was shining and the air was fresh and clean after days of constant rain.

To be honest, Steve liked this area. It was not so far from a city centre, there was a small but clean park with a tiny lake and comfortable playground for children (which was quite useful for him and Maggie ages ago, especially during the days when both of them were too tired to look after their eldest children), and of course, a decent number of small street shops, newsagents, and off-license stores near his house. It was a nice area to spend his life in.

But not on his own.

Steve dug his hands into pockets and decided that it was too early to go back home. Charlotte could come to visit him for her lunch, and he was not in a mood to discuss with her his awful experience with that jobcentre lady called Petra. Was “Petra” even a proper name? Steve shook his head and decided not to think about his failure anymore. Well, maybe it was his destiny, to stay unemployed forever. Unemployed, dumped by his wife and children, and miserable.

Maybe he deserved it. For all possible sins he committed in the past. Or in his previous life. Or somewhere in the parallel universe where he was a big green lizardman from a mysterious planet called Nibiru (Steve had recently read about them on one of the online internet boards where Charlotte was spending almost all of her free time). In this universe, his name had to be pronounced as “Hissssssss”, for sure.

Steve shrugged and headed to the park. He wasn’t a big fan of long meditating walks which were aimed to solve all problems and clear mind, but this park was close to his way home anyway, so, as Steve decided, a nice midday promenade won’t hurt him more than his jobcentre experience. He made a quick stop at newsagents and got himself a tuna sandwich and a can of coke. Well, it wasn’t a pizza he promised himself earlier but still, a treat.

Sometimes Steve was questioning his decisions.

He noticed a noisy crowd as soon as he walked through the park’s main gates. Steve was not in a mood for interaction with anyone now, but he decided to come a bit closer, just to eavesdrop for a while. For fun. He knew that people in the park were usually gathering for two occasions, and this time for sure it was not because of some dead body.

These people were standing near the lake and listening to a ridiculously fat man who was making some movements with his hands. Annoying flashes of numerous cameras didn’t allow him to take a proper look from a distance, so he sneaked by some smart-looking guys with portable radio sets and even stayed on his toes to find out what the hell was happening in the place which supposed to be calm and deserted at that particular time of a day.

The camera flash went off, and Steve choked on his sandwich.

Rupert Bloody Baines.

Bloody Prime Minister with his bloody guards and surrounded by dozens of bloody journalists in his quiet little park.

Steve hated him so much. Firstly, he was a Tory. Not that Steve was a proud supporter of any political party, he hated anyone who was currently in power, but this fact had to be mentioned. On the other hand, he was a fat and merry guy who was thinking that his nonexistent charisma skills could solve all major issues in the country - well, they didn’t. Lastly, he was Baines. Bloody Baines from Wales who was a very very distant relative of that bleak guy his younger daughter was kinda dating. To be quite honest, Charlotte was not even sure that Baines was aware of the fact that some lad called Iwan was related to him, but still. She was very proud of that fact and all family gatherings in the past were full of her rambling about her future as a member of the Prime Minister’s family.

So Steve accepted Prime Minister’s appearance in the park as a personal insult.

He carefully wrapped leftover sandwich into its packaging and put it into a pocket of his jacket, the same he did with an unopened can. Then, trying to look as innocently as he only could, Steve made a couple of steps towards to closest journalists and looked around. Well, it least he was not the only bystander in this crowd, he noticed an elderly couple who decided to cut their peaceful walk to listen to the new portion of lies from the Prime Minister. A group of youngsters on their BMX bikes were observing an unusual gathering as well, so Steve decided that he could easily pass for a curious trespasser and won’t raise any suspicions from the security guards.

Truth to be told, they didn’t pay any attention at all.

_ Looks like their wages were cut too_, Steve thought and snorted. For that, he earned a judging look from the closest journalist and this little incident has been forgotten.

Rupert Bloody Baines was talking and talking about some roadworks in the area, about his plans to make this park a better place for the neighbourhood, about the future developments of the local community, and also about some other bullshit promises he and his government would never turn into reality, and when he asked journalists if they had any questions after his speech, Steve had enough.

“I have a question,” he lazily raised his hand as if pretending to be a clever and wise news reporter from some detective movie. “If you allow it, Mr Baines.”

He heard some hisses from the journalists and quickly noticed that two of Prime Minister’s security guards had swung into his direction, but after a simple nod from Baines, they made a small step back as if allowing Steve to do anything he wanted. Judging by their postures, everything apart from the assassination attempt of course.

“And what would you like to ask me, Mr…”

“Tark,” Steve smirked. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that journalists’ attention was attracted to him now. “Steve Tark. And I have only one, but a very important question for you, Mr Baines.”

There was something strange in the Prime Minister’s gaze for a second, as if he was distrusted, afraid, and astonished at the same time, but it faded away in a second. After all, Rupert Baines was a well-known politician for decades, and he was used to wearing any mask which was needed from him. But Steve saw this conflicted emotion - and for sure it was nothing to do with him. More like with his upcoming question.

He grinned.

“So, regarding my question,” Steve decided to take a pause - at least he remembered the main characters of detective movies to do so. “Mr Baines, what do you think about a sudden rise in unemployment since you came to number 10? And what about your so-called changed perspective on election campaign promises? And why was your son working in your office while people without proper family connections are living on their benefits? And please, tell us something new, everyone is fed up with sweet stories about developments, roads, and shitty promises you and your party never fulfil.”

It didn’t sound like a movie accusation, Steve realised. It sounded like there was a huge dam somewhere inside him - and finally it collapsed, bringing out all bitterness and grudge he was collecting during all his life. Or at least since his first strike.

Well, it didn’t go as he planned - but at least Baines was confused.

“Mr Tark, if you would follow my last interviews on all these matters you would know my opinion on all these issues. At least about unemployment and my son. And talking about promises… Every party makes them, or do you think that the one you support is telling truth twenty four hours per day?”

“I don’t support any party,” Steve snorted. “All you politicians are full of shit. Coming to our houses in nice clothes and promising us some kind of heavenly future - are you bloody Mormons or what?”

“We are people who are representing this nation.”

“Then it means you live somewhere in a parallel world if you think that your actions are relevant to what ordinary people need.”

And then Rupert Bloody Baines _gasped_.

“Parallel world?” his voice was a bit trembling, as if Steve mentioned something which was a huge secret guarded by MI5.

“Yeah, exactly,” he nodded trying to look as serious as he could. “Parallel world with some chivalrous knights, creepy undead zombies and huge dragons.”

“Dragons?”

“Of course,” Steve nodded again.

The Prime Minister’s face had suddenly become emotionless.

“Dragons… Like the ones who were born across the sea?”

“Pardon?”

Okay, now Steve was _really _confused.

“Huge dragons born from the ancient eggs and raised by the young girl. Are you talking about _ those _dragons?”

“Of course not, are you mad?” Steve snorted again completely forgetting he was talking to the Prime Minister. “Dragons exist only in some sort of fairytales for little kids - and these fairytales are exactly the only place where your stupid and fake promises to make this country much better will be believed.”

“Oh,” Baines’ face had suddenly lost all its colour. “I see. Sorry, just a bad attempt to make a joke. I apologise, Mr Tark.”

“You’d better make something good for our country instead of your rubbish jokes,” answered Steve with some sort of annoyance. For the first time in his adult life - the one after he moved from North - he tried to have a proper conversation with the government official, and the said stupid fat official took everything like a bloody joke.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve noticed that all journalists had become quiet a while ago. And were quickly writing something in their phones.

“For example?” asked Prime Minister in a very serious tone.

“Well, let’s see,” Steve tried to imitate deep thinkings. “For example, you could go and resign. If you want to do something _ good _for this country.”

There was no answer from Baines, so Steve just shrugged, turned around and left, trying not to pay any attention to the loud whisperers which emerged as soon as he started walking. Looks like trespassers and journalists were quite impressed by his discussion with the Prime Minister.

Himself, Steve was more impressed about the fact that he was able to walk out of the park freely and without his hands being suddenly twisted behind his back and his face meeting damp soil. This Rupert Baines truly was an idiot.

On his way home Steve came by the thrice-damned off-license store - and crossed the threshold of his flat with two cans of some crappy beer.

Steve Tark was falling to the same cursed pit again.

He finished up his sandwich to the strains of a daily show he didn’t really pay attention too, opened first can a tasted the beer. It wasn’t as bad as he expected, so Steve leaned back in his chair and started to watch another family argument these daily shows were full of.

And then his phone rang.

Steve put the volume a bit down and took his phone from the shelf.

Bloody hell.

_Alice_.

Steve tried to sober up, put a beer can away and accepted the incoming call.

“Father, what have you done again?” said his beloved daughter instead of the greeting.

“And good day to you too,” Steve grumbled. “And what do you mean - again?”

Alice sighed.

“I meant that you are getting in trouble too often for a man of your age.”

“But I’ve done nothing this time.”

Alice sighed again.

“Please check the news, father.”

And then she hung up the phone.

Steve shrugged and opened a mobile browser, trying to decide which news site he could trust more. He picked a random one and made a sip of beer while the front page was loading. He made a small mental note to call a broadband company as soon as he will get his first payment on a new job, they had to do something with the quality of internet signal in his flat.

_ Rupert Baines to resign as UK Prime Minister. _

Steve choked on his beer.

_ What. _

He opened the article and straight away clicked on the video which was provided atop of the page. Baines’ speech was short and simple - he decided to resign as the Prime Minister due to his thoughts of being not too competent for this job, and also his fear of screw over the nation. He also asked to hold general elections as soon as possible so he could resign without any issues. He also apologised - and Steve scrolled the page down. The whole article was dedicated to the urgent news and Prime Minister’s speech without any mention of a certain Steve Tark, so what was Alice’s problem? Yeah, maybe he was that specific jolt that made Baines to resign, but it wasn’t fully his fault, was it? After all, Rupert Baines was a grown man who was able to make his own decisions. Right? Right.

His phone vibrated again, now with the message from Charlotte. She sent him a video link and a big thumbs up with a smiley face. Steve frowned but decided to follow that link anyway.

And then he choked on his beer once again.

_ Jobless Man Kicks PM’s Ass #TORYOUT #freefrombaines #glorytothehero _

Well, now he started to see Alice’s point.

It looked like one of the boys who was sitting on his bike during the whole Robert Baines thing was filming them. And decided to put it online. And now this video was accessible for everyone, had almost a million views already, as well as thousands of comments where people were expressing their solidarity with him, arguing, and even writing stupid nonsense such as ‘Winter is coming’.

Steve closed the window and put the phone away. Well, now he was in a really deep shit.

Luckily, he had his beer cans.

After the second one, the world around him started to blur out. This beer wasn’t the best thing he ever tried, but it was quite strong for sure. Steve stood up to throw cans into the bin, put TV volume back and checked his phone. There were several unread messages on the top of the screen, but none of them was from Maggie. So Steve shrugged and decided to turn his phone completely. Just in case, he wasn’t in a mood to discuss his encounter with Baines with anyone except his wife.

But she didn’t call him. Unfortunately.

Steve sighed and decided to keep himself busy with something. There was a pile of dishes in the kitchen waiting for him since yesterday, so Steve rolled-up shirtsleeves and very carefully cleaned all of them. His head was still going a bit around and he made a promise not to buy this beer anymore. Just to be on the safe side.

Then he cleaned the freezer which was full of expired frozen meals. Steve didn’t know that frozen meals had expiration date at all, but still decided to follow the rules and throw them away. He didn’t need stupid food poisoning.

After he was done with the kitchen, Steve took a small stool which was hiding under the kitchen table and brought it to the hallway. The light bulb was gone there for several days already, so Steve decided it was a perfect timing to change it for the new one.

It would be better to do such a thing while being completely sober, but Steve urgently needed to do something. Otherwise he would start thinking about his daughters, his wife, and even about Rupert Baines, so the idea to change a broken light bulb looked quite right.

Steve cursed under his breath, trying to balance on the shaky old stool while unscrewing the faulty bulb. There was quite a high ceiling in his flat, and Steve had to raise himself on tiptoes to be able to do anything with the lamp.

And then this poor old stool cracked.

His second to last thought was that he was a fool for not apologising to Maggie for all things he screwed up.

His last thought was that the sensation of his neck clashing with the wooden floor was a little bit strange - for a short moment, it felt like it was a cold steel touching his neck on the place where he had a stupid birthmark, not the wood.

And then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip


	2. Alice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the first chapter was quite confusing - which means I reached my goal :'D  
Here's the next one, featuring even more confusion.  
But the next chapter will finally have an answer if not for all questions, but at least for the main one - 'what the hell is going on here'.  
;)

It wasn't a usual alarm tune that woke Alice up. Instead of an annoying, but catchy tune she heard around ten or even fifteen sounds of incoming messages before she finally opened her eyes and reached for the phone on a bedside table.

All twelve messages were from Damien who literally begged her to change her usual working shift at McDonald's near her place to the Waterloo one. Alice scrolled down through all texts, and it looked like Damien had already arranged everything with her store manager and now she didn't even had an opportunity to refuse his request.

Alice sighed. She liked Damien, he was quite a nice guy to work with, and she even enjoyed to grab a cup of coffee with him in the end of the day if they worked in the same place - but sometimes Damien was _ too _ annoying. For example, when he was literally dragging her out of her cozy and warm bed and making her to work in the most crowded and craziest McDonald's ever.

But looked like she didn't have a choice. According to Damien, her shift was starting at 11, which meant Alice still had enough time to make herself a proper breakfast, take a shower and maybe put on some light makeup. She wasn't a fan of working in a busy and hot place which required lots of running while having tons of foundation and powder on her face, but Central London required some sacrifices from her side.

But as soon as she climbed out of her bed, things started to go completely wrong.

While trying to books some hot water for her porridge, Alice suddenly heard a loud crack - and suddenly the kettle blew up. Alice turned off the socket straight away and thanked god that the water was still cold. There was no spare kettle in the kitchen, so Alice had to heat the water up using a microwave. To be honest, she really hated to do so, the water never had the proper temperature, and the porridge had quite disgusting taste afterwards, but currently it was her only choice.

After the breakfast, Alice went to the bathroom to take a shower as she planned earlier. Everything was going fine, right until she put a shampoo on her long hair. As soon as she put it back on shelf, the water suddenly started to cooling off, and it was a matter of seconds it turned completely cold.

_ Feck _. 

Most probably, the balance on their gas meter had run out. Alice rolled up her eyes, put a wide towel over her body to be able to exit the bathroom, and walked back to the kitchen. Now she had to heat the water in a poor microwave again. She set it up for nine minutes and went to her room. With the change of her working shift she didn't have a chance to drop by the newsagents down the street to put some money on their gas card, so the only way was to write a message for her neighbours and ask them to do so.

She washed her hair, quietly cursing under her nose while trying to hold the warm sauce pan full of warm water in her hand and wash her head with the other. Well, at least there was no issues with the electricity, so later on she dried her hair quite quickly and made a simple braid. Alice put on her uniform straight away, then opened her wardrobe and picked a simple blue shirt with black flowers on it - after such a crazy day she will need some sort of treat, and going to the cinema sounded like a nice idea. 

She put a bit of mascara, eyeshadows, and powder on her face, and digged out of the table drawer a lip gloss of the most neutral colour - she needed to look nice, but Alice didn't want to drag too much attention to her looks while working. She finished with her makeup, looked at the mirror next to the door - and sighed.

God, she hated her appearance. 

Alice's mom had a nice deep red colour of her hair, and her sharp face features, not so common for the Midlands, were accenting her eyes and smile. Her father looked like a typical northerner from Newcastle area, with his dark hair and eyes, as well as with his broad chin and forehead. And Alice… Alice looked like if someone made a shitty joke, taking the best features of her parents and mixing them together. Her hair colour was bleaker than her mom's, and her face was not sharp or broad - she always looked as she wasn't having enough food in her life. Plus, there was an issue with her smile after a childhood accident, so Alice always tried to hide her teeth while smiling. However, even if she thought herself dull and unattractive, she still had loads of attention from strangers all the time. In Alice’s opinion - way too much of this unwanted attention. Every tenth male customer tried to flirt with her, and every fifth one was always observing her face and body while making their order. Working in a fast-food chain had its cons.

Alice took a small bag from the chair, put her lip gloss and comb in it, made sure she turned off all sockets - and left for her work. It was still quite early, but she lived in East London - and coming to central part of the city was never the easiest task Alice had to face. She put on her big headphones (to not be too distracted by people around, plus with them she never had to hear any comment or bawdy flirt attempts from the strangers), put on her sneakers and closed the main door behind her.

Well, at least it wasn’t raining today. For the last couple of days the weather went completely mad, and Alice wasn’t a person who was fond of rain. Plus, as soon as she approached the nearest to her house tube station she realised that her umbrella was left at home. Alice quietly prayed to all known gods that she won’t be needed it. And that Obi-Wan, a charming and fluffy, but plucky cat from the neighbouring house, won’t try to steal it again.

On her way to the train, Alice had grabbed a new Metro issue from a friendly vendor - it was her daily habit, but as soon as she entered her train and checked the first page she regretted her decision straight away.

Of course there was a statement from Baines about his resignation. And of course Alice straight away thought about her father.

Luckily, nobody knew Steve Tark’s name, nor the details about him and his family or something else which could disturb her, but just the fact that the decision to resign came to an ex-Prime Minister after a quarrel with her father. Alice had received a short video from Charlie yesterday, and then she even called her father - the thing she haven’t done for a while. Not that Alice hated her father, absolutely not, he was a caring and loving father who taught her how to ride a bicycle, or how to climb on the trees, and even helped her to develop a taste in music and cinema, and Alice loved him.

But it was the same man who was coming home drunk, hiding unpaid debts from his family, and arguing with her mom over any small issue he found annoying while being in his cups. Sometimes he was a quiet drunk, who was passing out as soon as he reached his bed, sometimes he was a bit threatening - but at least he never tried to hit any of his family members. Alice had heard a lot of stories from her classmates about their dads who started to beat their wives after bottle or two, but Steve Tark had never been like this.

But it indeed was difficult to live with him.

As soon as Charlie turned 18, their mom announced she will be going back to Leicester with her two youngest sons. She didn’t ask for divorce, she just wanted to live separately from her husband. Charlie moved out to her boyfriend, and Alice was renting a room in another part of London already. Father didn’t say anything to this announcement, but Alice, who stayed that night at her parent’s flat to help mom with her brothers, had overheard her mom and father’s conversation in the kitchen. Steve was crying and asking Margaret not to leave him, Margaret was sobbing as well but she kept repeating that it was for the best. To be separated at least for a while.

Somehow, this ‘for a while’ turned into three years.

Alice shook her head. She didn’t need all these thoughts right now, so she tried to focus on the newspaper instead. But all first pages were full of the news about Rupert Baines, and his name only was making Alice to think about her father, so she decided to read something else instead. The sports news were full of predictions for the upcoming Premier League weekend, the weather forecast was telling Alice that her forgetfulness could cost her a wet head in the evening, and the horoscope implied that she was about to meet her significant other today. Alice snorted and put a newspaper on the free sit next to her. Anyway, she had to get out in two stops.

At Waterloo station she arrived half an hour before the start of her shift. Alice popped in a tiny chocolate shop to get herself a sweet treat for her lunch, then checked new arrivals at the bookstore - and only then went to work.

Damien was already waiting for her at the entrance.

“Alice, I am so sorry,” he started, not looking sorry at all. “But Jane called ill today, and I already gave a day off for James and Preetha, so you were my last hope.”

“That’s fine,” Alice waved her hand and followed Damien to the staff room. “And what time you expect me to finish today?”

“Around three,” Damien smiled. “I know that it’s not the longest shift, but I asked manager to pay you as for a full day. I mean, because you agreed to come over from the East.”

“If I recall correctly, you arranged everything with Dave even before I agreed to come,” Alice narrowed her brows while closing a locker which was provided to her for today.

“Being a shift manager requires some improvisation, you know,” Damien laughed.

Alice closed her eyes and counted till ten. Otherwise, she would swear at him, and not in a quiet tone.

Damien was a nice guy, yes, but sometimes he was as annoying as hell. But he was a nice guy.

In another life, Alice would be head over heels just having some sort of attention from a guy like Damien, but she never had any other lives, just this one. And in this life, Damien, whose father was a priest and whose sister was a wife of a _ damned _ Rupert Baines, was just a good friend and a bit tiresome coworker, who was joking days on end, helping each member of his team as good as he was able to, and swooning over Star Trek and West End musicals. He was a friend, and Alice didn’t have much people she could call so.

Sometimes Alice was wondering why Damien was still working in McDonald’s while he had so many opportunities to get a more decent job.

“Well, enough talks,” Damien gave a light smack on her shoulder. “It’s time for you to join our nice and friendly team here in hell.”

“Hell?”

“I meant, at the Waterloo station,” he laughed. “But I’d make a bet with someone when you would come to me and ask to take you away from this hell.”

“I won’t,” Alice sounded quite confident.

“We’ll see.”

In the end, Damien was right. As always.

The beginning of her shift was not as bad as Alice had thought while travelling here. Yes, she had some difficult customers who were asking rather stupid questions and complaining that their contactless cards were not working while they attempted to pay for a huge order over thirty quids, but otherwise her shift was running smoothly. Alice even earned a thumbs up for Damien, who was running back and forth in attempts to oversee both tills and the kitchen.

Maybe Damien was born for that kind of job, after all.

As soon as lunchtime was approaching, things had started to become more and more hectic.

Alice was covering shifts in a crowded places, she was even working in Westfield three times during the matchdays, but suddenly it started to look like that every single person at the station decided to buy some burgers or fries as if their lives depended on it.

“There are some disruptions with the train schedules,” Damien told them. “So it looks like that we will have a big wave of the customers coming to us.”

Alice heard some sighs and mumbles from the team. She wanted to act in the same way, but decided not to - it would be quite rude towards Damien after all.

So Alice tried to smile and asked the next person in the line about their order.

After getting two Big Macs, large fries, a cheeseburger, and a bottle of water, she returned back to her till.

“Your order, sir,” she tried to smile again while holding out a bag and a bottle.

The guy in front of her was eyeing her with some sort of an interest and completely forgot about his order.

“Sir?” Alice repeated quite coldly. She had already received some looks and even one offer for a date since the start of her shift, and becoming a subject of interest for another customer definitely wasn’t in her plans.

“I’m sorry,” he grumbled somehow shyly and grabbed a bag with the speed of light.

“And your water, please.”

The “creeper” (as Alice named him) was towering over her and stared at her, as if he was unable to take his eyes off of her.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “It’s just your… Your smile.”

Alice clicked her tongue.

_ Here it comes. _

“And what about _ my smile _?” she inquired in a too polite tone being ready for another portion of stupid compliments. Well, at least he decided not to talk about her “deep blue eyes”, or another usual shit she was fed up with.

The creeper shifted his gaze on her lips. Alice narrowed her eyes and decided to stare at him in response. Well, he wasn’t a… _ good-looking person _, with all his awkward height, too long for his face features hair, and bunch of irritated scars on his left cheek. But at least he didn’t mention anything about her eyes, or hair colour, or something else.

“I mean, your smile is nice,” the creeper looked a bit uncomfortable. “It really suits you, I mean, it’s just about your teeth…”

“_ What _.”

“I mean, you certainly need some job to be done with them, like, some straightening and stuff, and then…”

“That’s fecking _ rude _,” snapped Alice, making a step back and folding her hands. “Good day, sir.”

“I’m sorry,” the creeper was really uncomfortable now and Alice even noticed a bit of blush on his cheekbones. “I didn’t mean to be rude, honestly, it’s just my…”

“I said good day,” Alice repeated and smiled to an elderly lady who was standing next in the line. “How can I help you?”

She took an order from this lady, and as soon as she returned to the till the creeper was gone. Sansa sighed and continued to work as if nothing had happened. Well, she was used to hear various comments about her appearance, mainly too sweet and too annoying, but that one… That one was _ rude _.

After half an hour of constant running between tills and stands with food, Alice was told to get a short break. She thanked Damien who took over her at the till, and went to the staff room to get a chocolate from her bag. The notification light on her phone was flashing, and Alice decided to check it as well just in case.

Ten missed calls from Charlie.

Alice narrowed her eyebrows and unlocked her phone to call her sister, but was stopped by a message which appeared at the same second.

_ Dad’s at st thomas a&e hes unconscious im here with iwan waiting for you to come when you can _

Alice gasped.

Shit, it was bad.

Steve Tark wasn’t a stranger for ending up at A&E after too many drinks, but this time something was definitely wrong if Charlie even asked her to come. Alice took a deep breath and tried to think logically. She still had about an hour until the end of her shift, and Charlie was waiting in hospital for any news, and it would be rude to ask Damien to leave earlier than it was scheduled, and…

“Alice?”

She turned her head and looked at strangely blurred Damien in front of her.

“You are crying.”

“Father is in hospital,” she whispered, and Damien gawked at her.

“Where?”

“At St Thomas’”.

“Then go,” he waved his hand. “We will survive one more hour without one member of staff.”

“But you asked me…”

“Go, Alice,” Damien smiled at her, but there was some sort of sadness in his eyes. “It’s better not to make you loved ones to wait, right?”

Alice nodded, wiped tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, and took her bag out of the locker.

“Thank you,” she told him quietly, and Damien patted her shoulder.

“It’s about ten minutes walk from here, so hurry up,” he smiled reassuringly. This time without the sadness.

Alice nodded again and quickly walked out.

It was better not to be late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;) ;) ;)


	3. Ned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah shit, here we go again © Ned Stark

Ned Stark died and opened his eyes.

_Wait _.

That was really strange.

He was dead. Definitely dead. Executed by Ser Ilyn Payne be the request of Robert’s fake heir. Beheaded in front of his daughter. Ned was still able to feel the weird feeling of cold steel next to his neck, and his last thought, and the pain, and…

Yes, the pain reminded about itself straight away - but somehow it was his leg which was hurting Ned. He closed his eyes, trying to calm down, then opened them again - but nothing had changed. There was a white ceiling in front of him, but according to the worshippers of the Old Gods there was nothing about seeing just a white space in the afterlife, nor it was told by the followers of the Seven. And there was a weird light in the corner of his eye, it was too bright and strangely long, and Ned tried to turn his head to the side and sit up just a little bit to see more of his surroundings - and suddenly his eyes met a strange thing which was entering his skin on the inner side of his elbow.

_An IV _.

Ned almost jumped at this foreign-born thought in his head, and suddenly he felt a terrible headache and a sharp pain on the back side of his neck, on the same place he had an ugly birthmark since his childhood…

_But Ned Stark never had a birthmark there._

_It definitely belonged to Steve._

There was a sharp bolt of a headache in his head, and Ned fell back on the pillow, closing his eyes tight, his face twisted in pain.

His memories of the Warden of the North and Lord of the Winterfell were tightly entwining with his memories of a jobless and good-for-nothing bloke with PTSD and a serious drinking problem, and Ned was starting to think that at one point it will be too much and his head will explode, killing him now for real.

And suddenly everything stopped.

The strange pain had vanished as suddenly as it had appeared previously, and again Ned was lying on the hospital bed in a total silence, trying to figure out what had just happened.

_So._

Ned made a more successful attempt to sit on his bed again, trying not to pay too much attention to his leg - most probably he had injured it after a stupid fall in the hall. Well, not him - _Steve _had injured it, but he was both Steve and Ned now, and all this thing was so confusing and unreal that Ned was unable not to make a short, bitter laugh.

He put his free from IV hand up and lightly touched cotton bandage on the back side of his neck. Ned decided to think logically, he was always well-known for his ability to sort everything in his head, but this time his thoughts were flying like a mad hive, bringing back the echo of recent headache.

So.

Ned Stark was beheaded by the King’s Justice. The blade of Ice had cut off his head - exactly at the same place were Steve Tark had an ugly birthmark since he was born. It sounded so ridiculous to Ned, that the birthmark of his projection in _this _reality was marking a place where the sharp steel cut his flesh _there _, in his real world. It was more like a deathmark, and in any other situation Ned would laugh at this pun, but now he was not in the mood for it.

Then again, what was his _real _world anyway?

His mind threw him a childhood memory of Steve - of_ him_, - complaining to his mother that some children at nursery were picking on him because of it. Then, years later, he made a small tattoo next to it, trying to hide its ugliness, and how he laughed together with his girlfriend - and future wife, Maggie, that they were destined to each other because of their birthmarks: Steve had one on the back side of his ned, while Maggie’s one was right under her chin.

Maggie.

_Catelyn _.

Ned opened his eyes wide. If his assumptions were correct, and the birthmark was showing the place of a mortal wound he got while killed _there _, in Westeros, it meant that Catelyn… Ned shivered violently and wanted to pray to the Old Gods to keep his wife safe for as long as it was possible. But there were no Old Gods in this world.

They were left somewhere in his other life, in a parallel world - the one which had _chivalrous knights, and creepy undead zombies, and huge dragons _. Steve’s - _his _words from earlier came back, and Ned recalled the full conversation with Rupert Baines straight away.

Or, to be more precise, with the thrice damned Robert Baratheon, First of His Name.

This time Ned gave it up and laughed. The missing pieces started to fall into place.

His late friend Robert, who was able to take power even in this world, was talking to him about dragons. And the dragon eggs. And the young girl who was possessing the said eggs. For Steve, these words sounded like an utter nonsense. For Ned, they confirmed his theory about their fate of being dead in Westeros and coming back to life here, in_bloody _London.

Ned tried to recall the latest news regarding ex-Prime Minister’s health which _he _read in this world. There were some rumours more than two months ago that Baines had disappeared from the public for couple of days to to the urgent surgery, something was told about the removal of his appendix - and it was perfectly matching the time of Robert Baratheon’s death. Even the place of the wound was the same. If, of course, these rumours were true enough.

Ned rubbed his eyes. The headache was coming back again, it was too much for him at the moment to think of - but _had _to understand what was happening with him, with his family, and with this world.

  
To be more precise - with _these worlds _.

Ned’s thoughts went back to his _other _self. Steve Tark (what a funny jape with his name) was the polar opposite of the Warden of the North, who was respected by his people and loved by his family. Steve was a drunkard, a pathetic bloke who was thinking that all his issues will solve by the sweep of the magic wand, and a person who was suffering from the ghosts of his past - and who didn’t even have enough courage to seek help from someone who was not a beer can. At least he truly loved his wife and all his children - but it wasn’t enough to gain their respect and keep them at their side. His wife had left him and took their youngest sons with her, his daughters were living too far from him and didn’t get in touch with him as often as Steve wanted, and his eldest son had left his parents’ house years ago and vanished somewhere in the country. Mark - _Robb _never called him or Maggie, never texted them, never visited his family, and there was no trace of him at all. And it happened only because Steve was a bloody idiot who was not able to take a grip on himself.

And now Ned had to deal with everything what Steve had done during his life.

What _he _had done.

Ned closed his eyes, listening to the muffled sounds outside of his room. Well, it was quite easy to judge Steve for being weak and stupid. Because Ned Stark, the Warden of the North, would never act like he did. But Ned Stark was living in a completely different world. He had his family. He had enough support from the people of Winterfell. He even had his bannermen who were ready to help him at any time.

And Steve had nothing.

Well, he had his family, and at the beginning everything was not so bad as it turned later - but there was nothing else apart of his family. In _this _world, the things were done in a completely different way, and Steve Tark didn’t even get a chance for another life.

_No, he had. He just never went for it._

The annoying thought was buzzing in his head and Ned had to agree to it. Steve never made a first step for the better life, but he had his own reasons for it. Or, to tell the truth, his fears. And he was too weak to fight these fears on his own, and too proud to ask someone else to help.

_But now you can change it._

Ned shook his head. Of course he could. He was now in the place of Steve, or to be more precise - he _was _Steve. It sounded so absurd and confusing, but it was a reality he was in now. The Old Gods played their cruel jape on him, and there was no return to his previous life. After all, he was dead in the place he called his home.

But here he was alive and well, except of his twisted leg and damaged neck, but still. At least he had a point from which he could start his journey, and Ned Stark was never known for turning back before the face of the danger.

There was a loud noise next to his door from the outside, and at the next moment the door was opened - and a young doctor entered the room. He was paying attention to his notes - but then, as if noticing with the corner of his eyes that Ned was awake now, he lifted his head up and smiled.

“Mr Tark, welcome back.”

_At least I can’t recognise his face from the other world _, Ned smothered his smirk.

The young lad went to him to check the IV first, then, he took some examination devices from the table next to the bed and checked Ned’s blood pressure, temperature, and some of the reflexes.

“We will take you for an x-ray later on,” the doctor promised while making his notes on the piece of paper he brought with him. “I cannot see any other issues right at the moment, your blood pressure is almost perfect, and you were able to follow my gestures and touch your nose without any problem, which means that there should be no concussion. But we will do the x-ray anyway - and for your leg and neck as well.”

Ned nodded, trying to follow the thread of doctor’s thoughts - for sure he wasn’t yet used to have _two _sets of memories at his head, and while Steve’s thoughts were present, he still was feeling that the personality of Ned Stark was the main one. And it made some things a bit more confusing for him.

For example, he had to ask himself what on earth the x-ray was before Steve’s memory came to his aid.

“Also, there are your daughters waiting outside - would you like to see them, Mr Tark?” the doctor asked and Ned froze on the spot.

Well, it looked like he had a very awkward meeting ahead of him.

His doctor took the silence as a yes and with a nod left his room - and in a couple of moments the door was wide open again and both his daughters went in.

Well, they looked almost the same, just a bit older. Charlotte - _Arya _, - was wearing her hair in a ponytail which reached her shoulders, there also was a decent amount of makeup on her face - something that _Arya _would not approve at all. As for Alice - _Sansa _, she was having her hair in a braid, the one her maids were doing for her quite often in Winterfell, and instead of a pretty dress or at least a nice-looking shirt she was wearing a uniform of the fast-food chain. Most probably she had to come here, to visit her failure of a father straight from work.

“Father,” _Alice _started, while _Charlotte _was making herself comfortable on a medical stool. “You are a total _mess _.”

That was completely opposite from what Sansa would say to her father who came back to life after being unconscious for hours (as was mentioned by the doctor), and Ned made every effort to suppress a snort.

_How unladylike._

It looked like his daughter didn’t share his attitude, as she was staying in front of his bed with her hands folded and eyebrows narrowed.

“I came to see you after yesterday,” his youngest daughter chipped in. “You know, to discuss the Baines’ thing and all, and you were lying on the floor as dead as a dodo. I kinda freaked out, you know.”

“I’m sorry,” it was the only thing Ned was able to say now, and judging from the rolled up eyes of _Alice _and loud laugh of _Charlotte _, it was a completely wrong option to say.

“Father, you are saying it to us every time after you drinking accidents,” _Alice _sounded quite irritated. “You know, we are family - but one day even we will get fed up with your shit.”

“Yeah, like Mark,” _Charlotte _spinning on her stool now, and it made Ned’s headache to slowly creep back. He rubbed his eyes and forehead, and heard a loud sigh from one of his daughters.

Well, they were not impressed with their father, weren’t they.

“Look,” Ned slowly started, trying to keep his thoughts in place. “I know I messed everything up again, that’s true - but I promise you that it won’t be like this anymore.”

“Fa-ather,” _Alice_ intoned. “If your promises were a small boxes, we could open our own Amazon warehouse by now.”

“And you just added the missing one we needed to open this warehouse officially,” _Charlotte_ echoed. “And I’d personally invited Bloody Baines to cut the ribbon at the opening of it.”

She giggled at her joke, and _Alice_ rolled up her eyes again, but Ned didn’t pay any attention to it.

_Right._

Rupert Baines. Or Robert Baratheon. Or whatever he was called. He needed to meet him as soon as possible. If Ned’s assumptions were right, they had a lot things to talk about - and maybe even to find a way to make things around easier for both of them - or at least for Ned. As it seemed that Robert enjoyed his current live even being in the skin of the Prime Minister.

But first, he needed to attend that x-ray session.

And then things will be sorted.

He smiled at his daughters (which earned him even more strange stares from both of them) and rubbed his palms together. At least he had some sort of a strategy now.

And Ned Stark would never run away from his plans. Even if it would cost him his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boom
> 
> (there was a warning about my imagination going wild, so i'm washing my hands!)


	4. Damien

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm slooowly coming back to my fanfics after I moved places and started new job.
> 
> Note that Damien's (and his family's) surname is French, and literally means 'a person from the rock/rocky place'. Because you know, there was some certain rock involved *winks*
> 
> Also, the first mention of some upsetting IRL events is here (initially I decided to postpone them for as long as I will be able BUT HERE I AGO AGAIN)
> 
> And a really small Easter egg: the name 'Broderick Baines' can be sung on the tune of 'Seven Nation Army' which is a reference to a JC song xD

"For the sake of Jesus," Damien sighed and entered his staff code to the till machine. "You don't need to press this button after a purchase, Lana. If I recall correctly, we learned this on your last shift. Haven’t we?" 

"Sorry, Dam," the trainee girl averted her eyes. "I'm just getting too nervous sometimes."

"The bad news is that work at McDonald's is one of the most nervous things ever," mumbled Damien, cancelling the last transaction. "But the good one is that we will learn everything together and you'll quickly become our star server, right?" 

Lana's eyes filled with some sort of dedication and she nodded eagerly.

Damien smiled and gave her the next task before turning around and check on the next trainee.

To be honest, he really loved his job.

With his education, loyalty, and connections, Damien could easily get any job he wanted, starting from the busy office environment and ending with any sort of job in the Parliament. But he was working at McDonald's - and he loved it.

Damien really liked to help the others. It all started when he was a child, and for the first time his father told him and his twin sister the story of an unknown man who had helped little Adam to flee the restless Paris and cross the channel in order to survive. Adam's parents were both killed as the members of Resistance, and little Damien knew them only because of their portraits which were standing on his father's working table.

And that was the story of how Adam Durocher decided to dedicate his life to help the others and one day became the priest. He had to undergo a long path from the baptism in his late twenties and years of studies to the point he finally got ordained. He had to sacrifice the years of his youth and his ancestry, and all these studies even lead to his marriage in a quite late age, but Adam was happy how his life had turned. And he always liked to remind his children about the importance of the selfless help to the others.

And that was exactly what had inspired Damien to work in a customer service.

Well, it didn’t really started with McDonald’s. At first, when he and Sarah were in their last year of the High school, he decided to become a volunteer and dedicate his life to a truly non-profited work. Sarah was working towards her entry to one of the local Universities, but supported her brother anyways. Victor was more reserved to his older brother’s idea and made an important point that one day Damien will be living on his own and will have to support himself somehow. After all, their father didn’t have too much of income while being a priest, and both Sarah and Victor (who was still in secondary school) weren’t quite certain of what they will do with their lives - unfortunately, none of them was too happy to financially support Damien.

Victor had his point, and in the end Damien decided to apply for the place in a University as well - and for the first time in his life he got separated with Sarah for the longest three years. She was accepted to the Goldsmiths University not too far from their home, and Damien had to travel all way to Leicester. And live there for three years on his own. Without Sarah, without Victor, without their father and his wise advises.

When Damien got his bachelor’s degree in journalism studies and was awarded for being a captain of the uni football club, he came back to London to rejoin his family - and found out that too many things had changed.

Victor was almost a University student himself, his father was appointed to serve in a bigger church in their area, and Sarah had introduced Damien to her fiance. It was a big mystery what she had found in a councilman who was almost five years older than her and didn’t look like the type Sarah from the High school would swoon around, but they had married couple of weeks after Damien’s arrival - luckily, it was a happy marriage for both of them, and Damien wasn’t worrying about his sister’s future at all.

And that was what had lead him to the spontaneous decision to join the Armed Forces.

Well, not straight away - he spent couple of years of working in different retail shops, deciding on use his University degree for leisure and write occasional articles for some newspapers and music magazine. After Damien had reached a peak and became a retail manager, he was not so sure about his help to the others - after all,the time he was spending on a routine paperwork now didn’t give him any opportunity to work with people and customers directly, so there was no point of staying at this job at all. Damien resigned, spent two months on the couch in a room he was renting near Regent’s park, and when he woke up one morning the clear thought that it was the time for him to serve not only the people around - but his country as well. 

So he had joined the Armed Forces.

Sarah was furious when she learned about her twin's decision, her husband was trying to explain Damien that there were other ways to help the people around - without any possible damage, and both Victor and his father spoke against as well, but Damien was unstoppable. In the end he was sent to Iraq for two years, but came back home after a year and three months, straight after he received a serious injury which lead to the full numbness of his right hand.

Then the most difficult period of Damien's life had started. Well, the government had provided him help with hospital visits and therapies for his hand, and there was NHS as well - but Damien had felt the lack of mental support, even with the regular free counselling sessions. He tried to squeeze his teeth and try to survive, but eventually Greg, his nephew, had learned about Damien's poor mental health while he was visiting his favourite uncle for the weekend - and told about it to his father. Who, on the other hand, had shared the news of Damien's problem with his brother. And then lot of different things happened.

Rupert Baines had insisted that Damien should attend private therapist as well, he even paid for the whole treatment - but at the same time advised not to cut his NHS sessions. And Broderick Baines, who already was an elected MP and whose party was in power at that time, spoke in the Parliament in favour of the better mental health support for veterans.

As soon as his law was passed, Damien started to receive much better treatment, and after couple of months even cut the quantity of alcohol he started to drink after coming back home. His life started to look much better, his family was helping him as much as they could, and when his therapist congratulated Damien on the improvement of his hand, he straight away applied for a number of jobs in customer service. He was too tired to sit at home and do nothing, and his mind was focused on the mission of helping people even after his not so happy experience in the Armed Forces. 

And that was exactly how Damien ended up in McDonald's many years ago - and wasn't planning to leave this place at all. He enjoyed to work with people, even with some nasty customers. His life was not in danger (except for the rare occasions when he was nearly killed by the broken ice cream machine, or, to be more precise, nearly froze to death), and his hand wasn't causing him any issues. Damien still visited his private therapist on Saturday evenings, as he wanted to make sure there won't be any regression on terms of his ability to use his right hand without any problems. But apart from that, McDonald's was an ideal place for Damien to live his working life in full and not have any regrets. Or some extra headache, like Victor did with the pub he owned near Clapham.

Damien was happy, and that's all what mattered.

Today he was spending some extra time after the closure if their branch to help all newcomers to get more familiar with their systems. No one would pay Damien for this particular overtime, but he was so excited about the prospect to avoid any issues when all trainees will work on their real shifts that in the end he came up with the idea of out-of-work training. All the newcomers supported his idea, and now Damien was fully concentrated on his colleagues and his tasks. And his perfect mood as well.

Which slowly went down after this training was over and Damien realised he won’t be going home tonight. After all, he had already promised Sarah that he will pay a visit to her house as soon as he will have some spare time, and there was no early start on the next morning - so Damien had to take a bus and go to the King’s Cross area where Sarah and her enlarged family moved after Rupert had left Downing street. Damien popped in to the twenty-four-hour Tesco across the street and bought some cakes and sweets for his nephews and nieces - despite of Greg being a postgraduate student, and his younger siblings being in their late teenage years, all of Baines children had a sweet tooth and always were quite happy when their favorite uncle brought home fresh pastry or giant chocolate bars.

At least Damien was hoping he was their favourite uncle - which was a quite difficult task, after all, there always was Victor with his not-so-adult-like attitude, and Rupert’s brothers were visiting their house on a regular basis as well (at some point Damien was getting sure that James, the youngest nephew, started to be fond of Broderick more than anyone else), but he hoped that these sweet treats would work to the velvet.

Damien got onto the bus and moved to the second level, where his favourite seat straight next to the front window was available. He unbuttoned his jacket, took his large headphones from his travel backpack (a present from Greg for his last birthday), and connected them to the phone. It was a time to check all notifications and updates before he will be stuck with Sarah and her jobless (for now) husband.

A small message popped on screen.

_ A new video by StarFall has been uploaded - 37 minutes ago _

_ Great! _

Damien grinned and followed the link to open a Youtube page. Well, at least his journey to King’s Cross won’t be so dull anymore.

A young woman with a quite crude nickname had become Damien’s favourite youtuber ages ago. He was just scrolling through Youtube suggestions and suddenly found a review on one of his favourite comedies from his youth. Well, to be honest, that comedy was quite dumb - but the review of this StarFall lady was truly hilarious. And the video itself was a masterpiece - full of smart, but funny jokes, interesting references, funny memes, and some fascinating remarks from the author. The only thing which divided her from the rest of the youtubers Damien was watching was that she didn’t show her face. At all. But that didn’t really matter, and Damien subscribed to her channel straight away. He was eager for more godlike content.

It was about five, or even six years ago, and with the time flying the subject of her videos became more serious, even if it was still dedicated to different type of movies and other culture things, and the quality of videos increased as well - but she still haven’t showed her face.

But Damien was a huge fan of this StarFall anyway. He always sending links to her new videos to all his friends, relatives, and co-workers, asking them to watch at least one review and tell him their opinion. He had joined her official group on Facebook and was able to spend hours reading posts from her fans all over the world on different internet boards. Sometimes Damien was thinking he was falling for her talent, her sense of humour, and even her voice - oh,  _ that voice _ . Some people in the comment section were suspecting that it was changed by some sort of audio program, and in fact StarFall was a man, but Damien labelled all of them stupid fools - and kept to worship her voice anyway.

Plus, at least this voice was helping him to imagine her looks - somehow Damien came up with the thought that she had to be quite tall, but not too much - maybe one or two inches shorter than Sarah was. She had to have fair skin, more or less light hair, and her eyes  _ were _ blue, like two shiny sapphires (Damien still remembered her clever remark from the video she dedicated to the fifteenth anniversary of the first Harry Potter movie, where she made a comment that with that eye colour young Harry had to be a love child of James Potter and herself, as everyone was always telling him about of his eyes resemblance to his mother’s). Yeah, that’s what Damien’s imagination was telling him.

Under her clothes she also had to be a bit similar like Sarah, with some to a precision of her height and body type, of course. No, not that Damien was thinking about his sister without her clothes (who on the earth and hell would ever think about his naked twin sister?), and no, not that Damien was thinking about a faceless youtuber without her clothes - unless he was. Sometimes. From time to time. On a really rare occasions.

He was in his forties and still single. That was the real issue here, not this StarFall girl.

Damien shook his head and focused on his mobile phone’s screen. This new video was hilarious as always, and in the end she mentioned that she will be attending another geek convention which was about to be held in London in around three weeks. Damien shrugged and closed the window. And opened mobile browser straight away, typing on the searching field the name of that damned convention and checked its price.

In couple of minutes he finally had pair of tickets for both days - he didn’t know whom he could offer the second ticket, maybe to Victor, but it was a way better deal than buying a single one.

Well, things were getting better now.

He got off his bus almost next to Sarah’s and Rupert’s house and searched for his copy of the keys, the one his sister gave him while ago - just to have it in case. It looked like that Damien forgot them at home, so he sighed and touched the bell.

There was some muffled noise and fast steps, and in a second Greg had opened the front door for him.

“Uncle Damien!” he grinned. “Good thing it’s you, and not some stupid journalists.”

“I  _ am _ a journalist, if you forgot,” Damien snorted while taking off his shoes.

“Come on, you know what exactly I meant,” Greg sighed. “You might have a diploma with the word ‘journalist’ on it, but at least you won’t write any rubbish about dad.”

“I won’t,” Damien nodded. Then, he held out his Tesco bag to Greg. “That’s for you - and for James and Diana. It’s nothing really, but I didn’t want to come with my hands empty.”

“Thanks,” Greg beamed and run away somewhere to the living room, where the screen of a big flat TV was flashing with crazy colours-probably James and Greg were playing some sort of video game before Damien’s arrival.

“Damien.”

He turned his head to the left and smiled to his twin sister.

“How are you, sis?” he smiled, and Sarah’s eyes lit up with warmness.

“We are trying our best - you know, with all this thing with Rupert’s resignation, and some other issues had appeared - but we are trying, you know.”

Damien spotted hidden dark circles under Sarah’s eyes - and narrowed his brows.

“What do you mean by those ‘other issues’?” he asked in a quiet voice. Not that he didn’t trusted Rupert or any of the children - but he had to do so.

“Rupert, he…” Sarah sighed and waved her hand. “You know, he changed. Just a bit. It started three or four weeks before he resigned - but I am feeling like he went cold on me. Maybe just a little - but something changed in him. I don’t know, Dam. But I am afraid. A little.”

Damien sighed - almost in the same way like his sister did.

“Do you suspect he might be cheating on you?” he whispered, and Sarah opened her eyes in shock.

“He’d never do such a thing, Dam!” she hissed, darting a glance to the direction of the kitchen. “You know, we are sworn to each other.”

“Yeah, I know - in face of our Father, who art in heaven - you always were a bit more religious than me, sis.”

“More like, in face of  _ our _ father, Dam,” Sarah giggled. “But anyway, I am more than sure he never cheated on me. I’d be able to tell.”

“Then what?” Damien crossed his arms.

“I’ve already told you - I don’t know,” she sighed again, and Damien stepped forward and patted her shoulder.

“Maybe, I can just speak to him and find all his secrets out?” he suggested, and Sarah rolled her eyes.

“And how you will do it? Damien, he is keeping these secrets even from me - and I am his loved wife.”

“With the help of some friends,” Damien snorted and walked to the kitchen. “The ones my dear brother-in-law is usually hiding in his spirits cabinet - I’d say that a lad called Jack Daniel’s could loosen his tongue, don’t you think?”

Sarah kicked him in his shoulder, and Damien laughed.

Things were getting even better now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D
> 
> pls let me know what do you think and if you like it at all :'D


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